feelings she had for Brian seemed no more to her credit than the fact that she had been blessed with pretty eyes instead of beady ones and round breasts instead of the banana-shaped ones that used to fascinate and repel her in the old issues of National Geographic that her parents collected.
Itâs not nobility of spirit, she thought, but something chemical and scientific. And now, since sheâd already said good-bye in theory, it remained only to do it in fact.
She picked up the phone and dialed Brianâs office.
An hour later she took a cab downtown to the Pierpont Morgan Library on Thirty-sixth Street. She was glad it was a bright day. Reality seemed so sharply in focus in the white light glaring off the stone buildings on Fifth Avenue. No room in this merciless sunshine for dreams.
Brianâs voice had sounded apprehensive over the telephone. He listens to voices through that receiver all day long, Sharlie thought. He knows thereâs something. And he said he wanted to talk to her. Could it be that he was planning to break off with her? Oh, Lord, let it be true, she said to herself. Iâll make him go first just in case.
He was already waiting on the steps in front of the elegant old building, and his arm felt tense as he helped her out of the cab. They walked into the gray light of the entrance hall.
âHowâre you doing?â he asked.
âOkay.â But as she looked around at the graceful stone and wood surfaces, their lines soft in the shadows, her courage began to fail. She suddenly tugged at Brianâs arm and pulled him back outside into the brilliant sunshine. She sat down on the steps and brushed off a place next to her.
âI think Iâd rather stand,â he said, his face rigid. âWhatâs going on?â
She clutched her arms around her knees. âYou said you had something you wanted to talk about.â
Brian shook his head. âDrop it.â
They stared at each other. Sharlie opened her mouth to tell him, and finally she burst out, âWe canât go on this way. Oh, no⦠â
She couldnât believe she had said it, and she began to laugh, making sounds halfway between giggles and chokes. She wiped her eyes and looked up at him to try again.
âIâm sorry. I always laugh at funerals. I canât help it.â
âIf this is a funeral, youâve been talking to your father.â
âNo,â she lied.
âYouâve been putting me off since Pietroâs. I havenât had one second with you alone.â
âI needed to digest it. Oh, damn. Not the pasta.â She started to laugh nervously again.
He looked at her closely. âYou are not in great shape.â
She held up her hand in protest. âNo. No, Iâm okay. Really. Iâve just needed to think everything out.â She was acutely aware of the long line of his leg near her shoulder. Just this one last time, she thought, let him be near me. âIâm getting a stiff neck,â she said, stretching to look up at him.
He sat down and stared into her face with clear eyes that seemed to look straight through her skull. She swallowed hard.
âI think you impressed him,â she said. âEven if you do work for Crazy Babs.â She gave him a feeble smile, but his face was grim. Not doing so hot here, she thought, and took a deep breath, wondering what nonsense would possibly come out next.
âWhat Iâve been thinking about was us sitting there all domestic and cozy at Pietroâs and how unrealistic that was and how we should all quit kidding ourselves. I should quit kidding myself.â
âYouâre rambling, Sharlie.â
âI mean that Iâm not ⦠long for this world, and any ideas you or I might be cooking up about long-range ⦠Oh God, I did it again.â
Brian put his hand on hers and said, âThis is the most incredible bullshit.â
Sharlie stared at his tieâa paisley
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